


your voice is a weapon

by ofbowsandbooks



Category: Daredevil (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bechdel Test Pass, Blind Character, Daredevil AU, Daredevil!Kara, F/F, basically a very gay version of Daredevil, because why not?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:52:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofbowsandbooks/pseuds/ofbowsandbooks
Summary: Note to self: when attempting to be a vigilante, don’t team up with the woman whose brother you’re trying to take down. Even if she’s really pretty. 
[Alternatively titled The Girl in the Mask]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Weapon by Bastille (ft Angel Haze vs. F*u*g*z vs. Braque). 
> 
> You shouldn't need to have watched Daredevil to read this. Or probably even Supergirl. But feel free to ask if you have questions!
> 
> Also, if Kara's a bit off, it's because her and Matt Murdock's personalities are very different, so yeah. I'm not exactly happy with this, but enjoy!

 

There was fire burning in her chest. It began under her ribs—sharp, searing pain that stretched across her abdomen. At its peak, it was almost acidic, and Kara’s toes curled at the memory, the sensation so familiar it was an ache. Caught up in the pain, she nearly didn’t register the texture of the couch underneath her—smooth leather, nicer quality than anything she owned in her apartment, definitely _not_ the kind of furniture she should be bleeding out on top of. Which reminded her of why she was there in the first place.

With a gasp, her eyes shot open. Not that it did much.

“Good,” came a voice. It was high and elegant, but with a distinct sharpness. Head still spinning, Kara started to imagine castles and fortresses, echoes over marble floors, until— “I was starting to worry you weren't going to wake up. And that wouldn't be good for either of us.”

The words didn’t fully connect in her mind. Instead, she was assaulted by the smells that were nearby—the trash from the alleyway, a lady’s chamomile tea down the hall, the woman’s perfume—and the sounds—the thrash of music playing on the floor below, a beeping microwave a few doors down, so many heartbeats—and the _pain_. Kara’s body started shaking, convulsing.

“Hey, hey,” the woman next to her said, soothing. Her voice was a wave of softness, and Kara tried to focus on to it, her breath tight. “Calm down. You’re going to be alright, but I need you to stay still. Okay?”

Kara gritted her teeth. She listened to the woman’s heartbeat, the rhythmic _thump-thump, thump-thump_ , and let it steady her. Slowly, she nodded. “Okay.” It came out as a whisper, broken and barely-there. Her next words were stronger, still struggling to form. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“I don’t know if you should be the one asking the questions considering I found you in a mask.”

_Her mask._ She wasn’t wearing her mask. The woman must have seen the panic on Kara’s face because she sighed.

“Relax, I’m not about to out you to all of National City. Though considering I’m saving your life, I do think you might owe me a few answers, like why your eyes are showing no response to light and you don’t seem surprised by it, which tells me it’s not a recent injury.” The woman paused. “You’re blind. _And_ the Devil of National City. The world certainly is a strange place.”

“Trust me,” she found herself saying, “it’s not that strange when you’re the strangest thing in it.”

The woman gave a laugh. She had done a good job on Kara’s wounds the mobsters had given her—Kara could still remember snapshots of the fight: the popping guns she had knocked out of the men’s hands; her fists dealing punch after punch; a knife swiping at her side—so the woman must be a doctor or nurse of some sort. She also wasn’t freaking out because of nearly-dead vigilante on her couch, which was a good sign—maybe she worked in the ER. They were always dealing with some sort of oddity, and Kara definitely fit under that category.

Hands smoothing her skirt, the woman sighed. “My name is Lena. Do you have one? I’m sorry, but _Daredevil_ doesn’t really do it for me.” Kara fell silent. Lena hummed, waiting. When Kara never came up with a response, the woman stood up. “Fine. I’ll call you… _Claire_ then. That’s my ex-girlfriend’s name. She was also good at hiding things. Like her other girlfriend.”

“No last name?” Kara asked.

The woman— _Lena_ —froze midstride. “No,” she said finally. “Not if you’re not even going to tell me your first.” She had a point. Lena strolled across the room to pick something up. It was nicely sized apartment, but the hollow echo of Lena’s shoes told Kara it was sparsely filled. “You’re going to be fine,” she said off-handedly, “if you’re wondering. A couple broken ribs. Possible concussion. And a puncture wound on your side. But nothing I couldn’t treat, fortunately. I wouldn’t suggest facing the kind of people who put you in this state any time soon, but with some rest…You’ll be gallivanting through the city in no time.”

Kara blinked. “Thank you.” She wavered, mouth ajar. “Are you—Are you a doctor?”

“Not quite.” Lena snorted, returning back to sit on the table next to Kara. “Went to medical school. But I—didn’t continue with it.” 

Brow furrowed, she processed that, then asked, “Why are you helping me?”

Lena stilled. Slowly, she unwrapped whatever she had grabbed—probably bandages—while silence fell between them like a fog. “I’ve heard all the stories, you know,” Lena said finally. “About the girl in the mask who’s been saving the day. Protecting innocents. Hurting bad guys. When I found you in the alleyway, it was fairly obvious who you were.” She paused. “I suppose I thought maybe I’d save you for a change.”

Kara’s mouth twitched up. “Well, I’m grateful.”

Lena went to speak, opening her mouth, when Kara heard a gruff, familiar voice floors below that made her freeze.

“Someone’s coming,” she said, alert in an instant.

Lena blinked. “Wha—How do you know?”

“Trust me, I just do.” Kara gritted her teeth and pushed her hands against the leather of the couch in attempt to get up.

“Right, always trust the blind vigilante. Sorry I forgot,” she said, sounding a little breathless. And annoyed. “Wait!” Her hands reached out, fingers cold on Kara’s arms, stopping her. “What are you doing?”

“He’s going to be here any minute, and I have to be ready.” The pain in each word didn’t instill confidence in either of them.

“Ready?” Lena repeated sharply. “Ready for what? A fight? You seriously think that’s a good idea? In this condition—really?”

“If there’s no other option, yes.”

The woman sighed heavily. “Have you ever considered that there _are_ other options?” Kara’s eyebrows bunched together. Lena only sighed, again. “Go into my bedroom while I’ll meet him at the door. There’s no reason for him to even know you’re here.” Her hands were still braced on Kara’s arms, but now she curled her fingers around them to get a better grip, carefully helping the girl off the couch.

Kara groaned as the movement pinched one of her wounds. “Sorry,” Lena whispered, so close her breath was mingling with Kara’s hair. “Okay?” Kara nodded, now on her feet. At this proximity, Kara didn’t need her heightened senses to detect the woman’s perfume or even the scent of shampoo lingering in her hair—mint and rosemary. Kara felt a moment’s regret for what she must smell like: blood and dirt and dumpster. 

Together, they managed to hobble over to the side of Lena’s apartment. The woman pushed opened the door and led Kara inside, then paused. “I can’t believe this is the first time a girl’s been in my bedroom in months,” Lena muttered under her breath, shaking her head and continuing forward. Still, Kara heard it easily, her cheeks going red. Fortunately, Lena didn’t seem to notice.

She left Kara in the room, the door whisking shut behind her. Her entire body heavy, Kara leaned against the dresser next to the door for support. Even this room felt like it was lacking _something_ —minimal scents, mostly just empty space. Shaking her head, Kara focused on the man. He was pretending to be a police officer and knocking on every door in the hall, asking if anyone had seen a blonde woman in black clothing—asking about _her_.

Kara sucked in a breath, realizing with a shock how easily Lena—this woman she hardly knew—could betray her. She was only soothed by the knowledge that Lena had helped her so far; there was no reason for her to stop now. She hoped.

The man knocked on Lena’s door.

She could hear Lena swallow, her hands smoothing the silky fabric of her clothes, before opening the door.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, ma’am. I’m Detective Draper.” His voice was all steady assurance and false pleasantness. Kara’s eyes narrowed as she imagined the scummy grin he wore. She knew what could hide behind a smile. “There’s been reports of an armed woman nearby. She’s been described as blonde, dressed in black, and wearing a mask. Have you seen or heard anything that might relate to her whereabouts?”

To her credit, Lena played the part well. “No, I’m afraid not,” she said, her voice carrying an edge of practiced worry. “What happened? Is it safe outside?”

“We can’t release details at the moment, but you can be rest assured that the fine police officers of National City are taking care of it.” _Most of whom are corrupt_ , Kara thought.

Lena breathed a fake sigh of relief. “Good.”

“Yeah—wait.” Kara froze. “You look familiar.”

It took Lena a moment, but she recovered from her surprise. “I suppose I just have one of those faces,” she said brightly, giving a huffy laugh that sounded absolutely fabricated to Kara but the man at the door didn’t question it.

“Right,” he said carefully. “Well, I’ll be going then. Thank you for your time. Call if anything changes.”

“Will do. Thank you, officer.”

The door clicked close, and Kara could hear Lena’s exhale from where she was exiting the woman’s bedroom. “What was that?” Kara asked sharply. The woman turned up her head. “‘You look familiar.’”

“Like I said, I have one of those faces. That’s all.” Lena swallowed thickly, and there was something ticking in the back of Kara’s mind, something that she could just about figure out.

Kara hummed. “Well, he didn’t believe you.” _And she didn’t either._ “About anything.”

Lena blinked, crossing her arms. “And how do you know?”

“Because he’s calling for backup right now.”

.

.

.

Kara ended up knocking out the pretend-police officer with a creative use of a fire extinguisher. Somehow, the two of them brought the unconscious man to the roof, where Kara interrogated him—and then threw through him off it. He landed in a dumpster, so really, what was the harm?

Eventually, the two returned back to Lena’s apartment, silence heavy between them.

_You’re just a girl_ , the man had said, tied to one of the poles on the roof. _What’s there to be scared of?_

And he was right. Kara had never known how to be scary, never had really considered herself to be until she realized the power of shadows and masks, the power of a punch.

She had smiled. _Oh no, don’t be scared of me. But a broken bone hurts no matter who gives it to you. And I happen to be excellent at breaking bones._

Then she had cracked his wrist. 

Lena had stood there by them the whole time, watching. She didn’t stop Kara, didn’t protest. For an almost-doctor, she didn’t seem to care much about the _Do-No-Harm_ oath. They had fashioned a mask for her to wear so that the man couldn’t see her features, Kara’s own mask safely back on her face. (When Kara put it on, it was an almost instant change. She became everything she had used to hide, all what she usually showed swallowed up in the black fabric.)

“I should check your injuries,” Lena said softly. Kara nodded and found her way to the woman’s couch. She hadn’t explained her powers to the women yet—the criss-crossing of her senses that let her navigate the world in different way, her world on fire—but she could tell the woman wanted to ask.

Lena sat across from her, applying antiseptic that filled the air with its sharp scent to Kara’s wounds. Her hands were diligent and skillful, but soft. Kara shivered and blamed it on the apartment’s draft. Her adrenaline fading, Kara’s body sung with pain all over; this was the worse she’d been in ages. It really was lucky that Lena had found her—Alex could bandage minor injuries, but broken ribs paired with bleeding out might have been past her skillset.

“You have a lot of scars,” Lena said, an observation if not for the concern in the words.

Kara smiled halfway. “Cons of the job.”

“A job no one expected you to do.” Kara froze under her hands, and Lena gave a huff, smiling. “At least, I’m presuming.”

“Uh, no,” she said, shifting. Lena withdrew, finished with her work, and Kara pulled her shirt back down. “I chose to do this. In fact, people, uh, tried to convince me not to.” Her argument with Alex, the only _person_ who knew about Kara’s alter ego, still gave her nightmares.

“Why?” The question made Kara blink, eyes wide. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Lena continued quickly, her voice dropping.

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Kara said with a smile, blinking the surprise from her eyes. “I mean, you were right. I do owe you some answers, and this is an easy one.” She sighed, interlocking her fingers on top of her legs. “It’s just—the city. This is my home, so many people’s home, our home. And I’ve never had a normal life, _obviously_ …But if I can make our home better, then that does something for their lives, you know?”

Watching her closely, Lena nodded. Her hands clasped on her knees. “Claire...” Kara felt a shock at the name, remembering Lena still didn’t know her real one. “If you require medical attention again—which undoubtedly you _will_ —you can come back here. To me. I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”

Kara’s mouth dropped. “Thank you, Lena, but I can’t—It would put you in danger. Again.”

“Claire, you said people didn’t want you doing all of _this_ ”—she gestured to Kara and her mask and probably the whole situation—“but I’m assuming you told them that ultimately it was your choice. Shouldn’t it be mine too?” Kara’s eyebrows pinched together. “Besides, I’ll have you to protect me.”

Surprised, Kara gave a laugh, head falling. “Okay.” She nodded slowly, pressing her lips together. “You’re right. I should give you the choice, and it would help to know someone with so much medical experience, so if I’m ever in the situation again, I’ll—I’ll find you.”

“That’s all I ask.”

They were left smiling at each other, an almost doctor and an almost devil. Right then, Kara should have been worried about a lot of things, but she just breathed, and breathed, and breathed, and her smile never stopped.

.

.

.

The days felt longer when Kara was unable to go out at night. It didn’t help that Olsen and Danvers couldn’t catch a break with any of their cases, which was why Kara was headed to the police station. Her wounds from the earlier week were still sore—when James had asked with alarm about her bruises, she had given some babbling excuse about a misadventure with her stairs. He had believed her fortunately, though she wondered how long that excuse would work.

(She wanted to tell James—she did—but James was so _good._ Alex had to accept it because she was her sister and because she just did. If James found out, he might never forgive her, and Kara didn’t think she could live with that.)

It was her sister she was meeting at the police station—Private Investigator, Alex Danvers. Her sister had more than a few connections within the police that Kara could tug on when she was in a pinch because of either of her jobs.

When she caught sight of her, her sister frowned. “I swear you look worse.”

Kara rolled her eyes behind her black glasses. “Thanks.” Alex had never actually seen the worst of it thanks to Lena. Kara had also declined to mention the woman who had patched up her when she had informed Alex about her night. She didn’t exactly know why she had lied.

“Well, that’s what you get for taking on _the mob_.” Alex hook her hand into elbow, a familiar movement, and led Kara inside the precinct. Kara shrugged, her cane tapping along next to them.

“Who’s meeting us?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. She smiled at her sister, a giggle on the verge of escaping as she leaned in closer. “Is it, perhaps, _Detective Sawyer_?”

Alex hit her arm. “Shut up.”   

Kara bit her tongue, smiling. “You could just tell her that you like her, you know.”

“Oh yeah, should I also tell her that my baby sister is the Devil of National City?” Kara blinked, smile disappearing. Her grip on her cane tightened. Alex noticed, softening. “Hey, Kara, no…You’re not the reason I’m not telling her.” Kara raised an eyebrow. They stopped once they were in an alcove near the police bullpen, near enough to see the officers but far enough away that they could talk without being overheard. “Fine. Not the _only_ reason. It’s complicated.”

Lifting her shoulders, Kara smiled. “It always is.” Her lips mulled together. “I just…I just want you to be happy, Alex, and I feel like Maggie could—could make you happy.”

“One person doesn’t make you happy, Kara.”

“But they can help.”

“Yeah,” Alex said softly, her voice no longer directed towards her sister. Kara assumed she was looking at Maggie. “They can help.”

“She’s also very cute.”

Alex groaned. “How would you know?” Kara didn’t say anything, only smiled. Alex snorted. “Oh right, _you always know_.”

Kara shrugged, grinning proudly. “It’s a talent, _and_ you didn’t deny it.”

She could tell Alex was rolling her eyes, but then Maggie was arriving, and Kara didn’t need to tease her for Alex to be flustered. As Maggie talked to them about the case, Kara listened—at first, but then she heard the click of high heels further inside the precinct. It reverberated off the tile floors, shooting all the way to Kara’s ears. The shoes clicked closer and closer to where the three of them were, and so came a voice.

_“I’ll have to look into what you said, officer. Thank you for talking with me.”_

Kara sucked in a sharp breath, her body freezing. That voice belonged to a dark night and a hollow room, to the smell of antiseptic and perfume. Her whole body ached with the memory. Absently, her hand reached under her suit coat and felt blood seeping out of her side, staining her dress shirt, the stitches reopened. 

“Are you okay?” Alex asked, drawing her mind back to her body. Kara withdrew her hand clumsily, pulling her blazer tighter around her.

She swallowed, her throat thick. “Alex, who’s that?”

“Huh?”

“The woman talking,” she repeated, voice quiet but forceful. “Who is she?”

Alex was still looking at her sister oddly. “That’s Lena Luthor,” Maggie said simply, like the answer wasn’t a bullet. “You know the woman whose brother owns half the city? And has a history of being, well, evil?”

“Right,” Kara said, nodding quickly. “Of course. I knew that.” She kept nodding, drawing odd glances from the others. “I just remembered I—I have to go.”

Alex’s voice curled in concern. “I thought you needed this for you case.”

“Could you just tell me later? I have an appointment with a client, and I’m late! Totally forgot! Good thing I’m my own boss!” She sputtered out a laugh and tried to smile, but it felt stale around her lips. Alex and Maggie let her go, probably grateful to be alone anyway.

When she left the precinct, she nearly ran into Lena—Lena _Luthor,_ the woman who had saved her life _—_ but the woman strode straight past her, unaware of the devil in her midst. But then, Kara knew few ever were.

.

.

.

Night couldn’t fall quickly enough. When it had, Kara was already in her black mask and costume, lurching over National City buildings. Shadows clung to her like clothes. The wind whipped against her skin. The city was alive around her, bursting and beautiful and frightening.

Sometimes, when she was up on these rooftops, racing across them, it almost felt like she was flying.

Kara knew she shouldn’t go. The woman was _Lena Luthor._ Kara should be lucky she survived her last encounter with her and hope to never see her again. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out _why_ : why Lena would help her in the first place; why Lena wouldn’t turn her into the police, or worse, her brother; and why Lena had offered to help her again. Unless that was a ploy to betray her, but then, why wait? She already had Kara in her most vulnerable state. There wasn’t much she could gain from healing Kara, and _then_ hurting her.

Kara was buzzing, angry. And confused. She wanted to hit something.

Arriving atop the building across the street from Lena’s apartment, she reached out with her senses to scan Lena’s building. There was no one but Lena in her apartment, and every apartment besides hers was filled with only its normal occupants. No guards with guns were lurking in wait for her—she didn’t know if she expected there to be. Even if there had been, Kara had the element of surprise, and like usual, she used it.

She landed on the fire escape outside Lena’s apartment with a metal _clang._ After testing the window, she found it to be unlocked. She opened it and slipped inside.

Lena’s apartment hadn’t changed much since she’d been here last. It still felt too empty—like she’d yell something out and the words would echo. Kara could hear Lena’s heartbeat inside her bedroom and considered her options—i.e., snooping since this _was_ the sister of Lex Luthor’s apartment—when the decision was made for her. 

“Claire,” Lena said in surprise, coming out of her bedroom. Kara wondered how she had missed the woman’s movement. “Are you hurt? Do you need—”

“You’re Lena Luthor,” she said without preamble.

The woman stilled. Then, she nodded slowly, strolling farther out of her bedroom. Kara thought the click of the woman’s shoes just might be ingrained in her memory. “I do know that, actually.”

Kara ignored the woman’s sarcasm, shaking her head. She stepped forward. Her fists were tight at her sides.  “You didn't tell me.”

“As I recall, I don't exactly know your name either,” Lena pointed out. “And _I'm_ not the one who gallivants around in dark alleys through the night.”

“This isn't funny. I'm trying to take down _your brother_.”

That made the woman’s heart pick up, just for a second—at the mention of her brother. She didn't say anything, and the silence dragged. Lena was wearing the same perfume as she had the first time Kara had meant her—something regal but light like white jasmine—and her hands had a trace of ink on them, the remnants of a ballpoint pen. From the sound of it, she was currently holding those hands together.

“And?” the woman asked finally.

“And he’s your brother!” Kara exploded.

But Lena didn't flinch. Instead, she took her time, giving a slow, thoughtful nod. She turned away from Kara with a step, swinging her arms. “Do you think, possibly,” she began, “that the people closest to Lex know what he is capable of more than anyone else? The bad that he has done?” She swallowed. “That my whole family has done?”

Kara blinked, her whole face freezing. Her mouth was left ajar as her thoughts raced. That was not what she expected, but nothing about Lena Luthor had gone as planned. Eventually, Kara closed her mouth and crossed her arms against her chest. “How can I know what you're saying is the truth?”

“Good point,” the woman said hotly. “Obviously the one of who _doesn't_ wear a mask is the least trustworthy. I suppose when they're a Luthor, that's enough, isn't it?”

“I didn't say that.”

Lena froze. Kara considered suddenly what a weight a name like Luthor could be. She knew what it was like to carry shadows; she could only wonder about carrying a spotlight. Eventually, Lena sighed. “Look, none of this—of us—is because of my brother. Even _I_ couldn't have a conceived a plan well enough to get you injured and needing medical attention while practically at my doorstop.”

“Then why were you at the precinct?” Kara asked, impatient.

Lena stilled, head cocked to the side. “How do you know I was at the precinct?” Kara didn’t respond. Anything she might say could lead back to her identity, and knowing now who the woman across from her was meant she especially didn’t want that secret to get out. “Right. Well, someone broke into one of Lex Corp’s offices, and I was overseeing the investigation for my brother. It had nothing to do with you. I promise.”

Kara nodded, though it did little help the feeling in her gut. “Okay, but what about _this_?” She gestured to the apartment around them. “I—I can get you helping me out the first time because of the right place and right circumstance, and you having medical training. But why would you offer to help me again? _I’m trying to take down you brother._ ”

Lena paused. The words didn’t seem to have the effect on her Kara kept thinking they should. “I was in a car crash two months.” Kara blinked. “Do you remember hearing about it?”

As much as she wanted to say _no, actually, everyone doesn't actually pay attention to goings of your life,_ she nodded _._ But she was reluctant about it. _“Lena Luthor Out of Luck?”_ she repeated from memory. James had read the headline to her after a request from Kara to tell her everything Luthor-related he came across. He had obliged, if a bit confusedly.

Lena gave an amused huff. “Yes, that was one of the more vivid headlines.” She paused, but it wasn't hesitance. Kara didn't think this woman was ever hesitant. “It was my brother’s doing.”

Kara blinked. “How do you know?” The words shot out of her.

“When your sibling’s trying to kill you, you know,” she said simply. Kara thought that was probably valid. “Obviously, he didn’t succeed. And now, I don’t know if that was even the intent.”

“Then what?”

“I believe it was a message. I was digging into a part of the company I shouldn’t have been, and he wanted me to stop. You know, typical sibling disputes.” She exhaled. “I know the bad he’s done, Claire. That he’s still doing. I may work for him, but I’m not on his side. That’s why I helped you. If I’m on anyone’s side here, it’s yours.”

“And I should just trust you?”

Her heart and breathing steady, Lena went very still. It took her some time to respond, somewhere between minutes and millennia. “I wasn’t the only one in that car. Did you know that?” Her voice was like glass; Kara imagined that if it cracked, it would be sharp. “The media, of course, didn’t care because _I_ was the only one with the important last name, so who else matters?” She chuckled lowly, and Kara’s brow drew together. “It was my driver. He’d been with me for years, had a family, kids…He died in the crash. My brother killed him.” Lena sucked in a sharp breath. “So no, Claire, I don’t care if you trust me, but you can trust that I will do everything in my power to stop Lex, including patching up the local vigilante.”

Despite the heat in her voice, Lena’s heartbeat was steady. _She wasn’t lying._ Kara found herself nodding slowly. “Okay,” she said, quiet in the apartment.

“Okay?”

“I don’t know if I trust you, Lena, but I think—I think I believe you.”

 “You do?” Lena asked quietly.

Kara nodded, unsure even as the words left her lips. “You’re right,” she said, letting the words fill the air gradually. “It wouldn’t be right of me to judge you because of your last name…To not give you a chance.”

“I didn’t think Daredevil cared much about giving people a chance. She always seemed like more of the punch-first type.”

A smile fit itself on Kara’s lips. “Well, maybe she’ll surprise you.”

“And maybe I’ll surprise you.”

Kara blinked. Her expression fumbling and face tilting down, she realized with a start how much she wanted that to be true. “Just—one last question?” she asked, instead of examining why that was the case.

The woman sighed, sounding more tired than Kara had noticed. “Yes?”

“Why is it so empty in here?”

Her mouth half-open, Lena halted, then broke off into a laugh. “That’s the question you’re asking?” She sounded surprised.

Kara shrugged, a prickling feeling still between her shoulders. “I’ve been curious.”

Lena laughed again. It was a nice sound. “Well, it’s because this isn’t my main apartment.” Kara frowned, brow furrowing. “Lex doesn’t know about this one, and it’s new—thus the lack of furniture.” Lena swallowed, and her voice had changed: it reminded Kara of the sky, all open and big. No less dangerous. “It’s my one safe space in the city.”

“Is the view nice at least?” Kara asked, her voice higher and lips upturned. Something in the air had shifted as well, and it was brushing up against Kara’s skin—cool and swift and lovely. New. It felt new.

“No,” Lena said with a chuckle. “Not at all. But I met the Devil of National City because of it, so I’d say it’s worth it.”

.

.

.

“Do you have a plan?” Lena asked one day, a little over two weeks after they had met. Her hands were occupied tending to a cut on Kara’s arm while Kara was lying on the woman’s probably blood-stained couch.

“A plan?”

The woman nodded, pressing a bandage with antiseptic to Kara’s wound. It _stung_ , but in a different way than Lena’s following words. “You can’t just go throwing your fists at every bad guy and expect things to change.”

Kara’s brow furrowed, head tipping up as she focused on the woman. “These _fists_ have saved a lot of people.”

Lena didn't relent despite the heat in Kara’s voice that had a habit of turning muggers into a quivering mess. “And you could save more,” she said, in a way that was all knowing.

“How?” Kara asked brusquely, features narrowing.

Opening her mouth, Lena stopped before anything else, then changed gears. “Why did you come back here, Claire?” She swallowed stiffly. Kara still hadn’t told Lena her real name, though she considered it every time she saw her. “After you found out who I was, I half expected you never to return.”

Kara fell silent. She had wondered the same thing—but she liked Lena. She liked not having to worry her sister about every injury she got. She liked having another person to talk to about everything. “I realized what it meant to you,” she said, “bringing me here. It was all you had safe from your brother, and I—I risked that for you.”

“It wasn't a burden, Claire. It was my choice.” The woman paused. “ _You're_ not a burden. You know that, right?”

Kara was still. Every part of her felt tight, but it was different from the tightness before a fight—the tension and anticipation that quickly loosened into fire. She nodded. “But you didn't have to.”

“But I wanted to,” she said simply, her voice everything final and assured. She seemed to come to a decision because she swallowed like she was preparing herself and spoke again. “And that's not all. I want to do more than just patch you up.”

“What do you mean?”

Her ears should have been buzzing with noise—the old woman on the floor making tea with a whistling kettle, the laughing kids in another hall playing dress-up, the college student swearing under his breath as he wrote an essay the floor above them—but Kara could swear that all she heard in that moment was Lena.

“I want to help you,” she said.

Kara frowned. She started to open her mouth because Lena was already helping her, of course. Doing more than she should, really. However, Lena spoke again before Kara could.

“I want to help you stop my brother.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ofbowsandbooks
> 
> If there's interest, I may continue with this? I haven't decided yet.


End file.
